My Life Kicks Ass

Saturday started with some ass kickin' yoga. Don't let the peace and spiritual orientation of the website fool you. The class is edifying and calming, before and after you stand on your head and commit other acts of wild contortion.

But, of course, that wasn't enough. I had to ride. I busted out the old hardtail and headed for the muddy hills.



An apple, some almonds, a rain jacket and a fender, I was off for a journey, and loving it.

The trails weren't all that soupy, and my voyage of discovery was filled with long slow cardio climbs followed by flowing single track downhills. Ah, the sweetness of winter base climbing in the woods. I'd forgotten the connection to the earth and my wheels that I get from that steel frame. All hail Hunter. I saw some hikers, but none of them glared (and some had a right to, if you know what I mean). I even got a wink and a nod from one family out there. That's one of the best parts of winter, too: most everyone you run into out there is stoked to be out, and to share the stoke. No fair weather hikers deep in the woods this time of year.

I was so in the flow, I got lost at one intersection, but found a trail new to me. It was super fun, and I could have ridden it forever if I had known where I was going. Something about being in the woods after dark all by my lonesome kept me from going in further. As it was, I got home 20 minutes before sunset.

After that, I was treated to the symphony. Another first for me.

The bad stuff doesn't really matter that much after you've been on a good, clean muddy ride.

Working on the Ground Floor of the American Dream

Ah, yes, it is raining away, but work does not stop. I miss my bikes, and the trainer simply sucks. all hail yoga.

I'm sitting in my classroom, reading paragraphs about my students' families.

Kids are so great, so open, so trusting, they tell me what they really see, think, feel.

Although they have been through so very much in their immigrant lives, gang-filled lives, drug-infested lives, outwardly hopeless lives, they trust their future. They learn English, they struggle to reach things most American kids are freely given, and so often, my students succeed.

Damn straight there's a tear in my eye.

This once stressful job has become a miracle teaching me to believe in my country again.

Sometimes it's so easy to forget, in the midst of corporate greed, rising costs of living, and the annoyance of my district's lack of keeping our pay current with inflation, that this still is the land of opportunity.

And I am blessed to be its eye witness.

Everyday.

La Chaim!

I'm sitting here, eating my organic carrot and my organic apple. Both locally grown. The apple is a Braeburn. I prefer Fuji. But the Braeburn was locally grown, the Fujis weren't.

Why care?

This county is known to have higher than average numbers in the breast cancer world. Rumor has it pesticides could be bad. That bad.

Now, I haven't had cancer, but it seems like it really sucks. More than sucks.

I love my life. I love to ride.

Braeburn over Fuji. Consumers vote with dollars. I vote for health.

More years to ride, fewer for chemo.

Just doing my part. It's all I got.

WTF?

It's raining here. Jesus.

Sunny in TEjas.

Frickin' raffin' smickin' smakin'.